


La Fee Verte

by kethni



Category: The Bill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:17:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3237716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni





	La Fee Verte

Luke leaves the Hotel Axa bright and early. The other lads are fast asleep, or unconscious if he is more honest, in their beds.

 

Luke has never been to Prague before. He’s heard all about it and always planned to visit. Its sudden popularity as a stag-weekend destination fills him with a strange, diffuse sadness.

 

He was careful last night. He didn’t get drunk with the others, and instead of lying comatose, he is now happily setting forth to explore the city.

 

It’s cold, the air is shining and frosty, but Luke did his homework and came prepared for the weather. He is wrapped up warmly as he cheerfully pokes about in the little craft markets, explores the lesser town, and then repairs to a tiny coffee house.

 

Luke sits by the window watching the world go by. It’s so lovely here: the beautiful buildings; fresh air; friendly people; and the sparkling, clean streets. The only thing that would make it perfect would be someone special to sit here with.

 

Luke opens his wallet and pulls out a small newspaper cutting. It is from the newspaper report of Craig’s beating; the photograph in the report taken from Craig’s personnel file. Luke got in touch with the newspaper and tried in vain, every trick he could think of, to get them to send him a copy of the photograph. The newspaper reproduction of the photograph is poor quality and at some point he knows that it will be unusable, and then he will have nothing to remember Craig by. Luke sits looking at the cutting for a while; and then, very carefully, puts it away.

 

***

 

Luke peers suspiciously at the well.

 

“You make a wish?”

 

Luke looks at the heavily accented woman smiling at him.

 

“Sorry?”

 

“You make a wish? It comes true. This very old wishing well, is very blessed. Hundreds of years old.”

 

“That plaque says, ‘The Well of The Green Fairy’,” Luke observes.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Um, in English?”

 

“Like English! Nice Englishman, not Yankee?”

 

“Oh, yes. I’m English,” Luke confirms. “But I thought ‘The Green Fairy’ was another name for absinthe. So, the chances of a wishing well that is hundreds of years old being named after an alcoholic drink, and signposted in English is… well, it’s not likely,” Luke says, and winks at her.

 

“Nice English, trust me. Make a wish in well, and it will come true. Guaranteed.”

 

Luke looks at her worn clothes and tattered boots, and decides that she needs it much more than he does.

 

“Okay,” he says lightly. “How much?”

 

“One hundred and fifty crowns.”

 

“That’s a bit steep,” Luke says surprised.

 

“Trust Gruzia. You will see.”

 

Luke mutters good naturedly and takes the notes from his pocket.

 

“Good English. You will see.” Gruzia counts the notes and beams at Luke. “Now write wish down on paper, and throw into well. Here is paper.”

 

Luke takes the proffered pad and pen, and thinks for a moment.

 

_Well, got nothing to lose._

 

‘I wish to have another chance with Craig Gilmore.’

 

Luke tears off the piece of paper and folds it carefully.

 

“Have to be specific.”

 

“Your English is better than you pretend, isn’t it?” Luke says, scowling playfully.

 

Gruzia beams at him.

 

Luke opens the piece of paper and thinks carefully.

 

‘I wish to meet Craig Gilmore again without any of the confusion, distress or upset that always seemed to dog our relationship. I wish for there to be no problems or complications of any kind. I wish to make him happy and to be happy.’

 

“Much better! Specific is very important.”

 

“You can’t see what I’m writing,” Luke says, shaking his head at her.

 

“Now fold the paper and throw the wish into the well. It will come true.”

 

“Yeah, I believe you.” Luke folds the paper neatly and throws it into the well.

 

Gruzia writes something on a piece of paper and folds it up very small.

 

“Take this paper; do not open until you return to England.”

 

Luke nods agreeably, puts the paper into his back pocket, and forgets all about it.

 

***

 

Luke returns to the hotel at four pm, and finds the lads just dragging themselves out of bed. He flops down onto one of the beds, and watches Sky News on the cable while he waits for them to get ready.

 

***

 

“We can go to a queer place if you want, eh?” Dominic nudges Luke with his elbow. “We did all the straight places last night. Fair’s fair.”

 

“It’s okay, Dom.”

 

“Come on, Ashy. Everyone else got laid last night, or at least felt up.”

 

Luke frowns at him.

 

“Not  _me_!” Dominic says quickly. “Obviously not me. I wouldn’t cheat on your sister. You know I didn’t, and wouldn’t.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Freddie is bi, so he’d be more than happy to go to a queer place. It’s alright to call it queer, isn’t it?” Dominic asks anxiously.

 

“Yeah, Dom. It’s been reclaimed.”

 

“Or, you know, a mixed place. No one’s going to have a problem with it, honest.”

 

“Dom, seriously, I don’t want to go to a gay bar,” Luke says firmly.

 

“I want you to enjoy yourself, mate. I was looking in the guidebook that they put in the room, and it mentions this place called ‘Pinocchio’s’…”

 

“No, no way! That place is  _infamous_! It’s full of rent boys!”

 

“That’s a problem?” Dominic asks waggishly.

 

“Funny guy. I’ll just watch you lot get drunk.”

 

***

 

Luke looks at the bottle with undisguised mistrust.

 

“What is  _that_?”

 

“Absinthe, I bought it off a bloke in the street,” Dominic says cheerfully. “You can buy it in bars, but it’s very watered down. We’re all having it.”

 

“I think this is a bad idea,” Luke says quietly.

 

“It’s just to warm us up before we hit the bars,” Freddie says happily.

 

“Come on, Ashy; what’s wrong, are you scared?”

 

“I’m not afraid of a drink,” Luke says, his voice shaded with uncertainty.

 

“This is  _culture,_  Ashy; you don’t just swill it down like lager. You pour the absinthe into a big glass, stir the drink, then dip the wet spoon into sugar, covering the spoon. Then you set the spoon on fire, letting the sugar caramelise, then dip it into the drink, and stir. Add water to the glass and drink. It’s… it’s a  _tradition_.”

 

“So why don’t we go to a bar and have some?” Luke says reasonably.

 

Dominic slaps his head with his hand.

 

“Bars cater for tourists.”

 

“We  _are_  tourists.”

 

“We want the real experience, not some plastic, mass produced, kitsch thing.” Dominic pours several glasses out, and then pauses. “Are you in, or out?”

 

“I’m in. Only one glass though.”

 

“Right!”

 

***

 

Luke throws back a full glass and then gags.

 

“That was disgusting!”

 

“It’s not the taste, it’s the effect.”

 

“Yeah, well…” Luke’s voice trails off. “Oh, I don’t feel… so well. I think… I feel awful. I think I’m going to go to bed.”

 

***

 

Luke is lying on his bed, he is completely still, but the room is spinning around him. Warmth is flowing slowly all over him

 

_This is nice,_  Luke thinks.  _Warm and comfortable. Kind of sexy. Wonder what Craig is doing? Really like to feel like this with him_.

 

Luke closes his eyes, and he can feel the heat of Craig’s body burning against him.

 

***

 

London

 

The table is full of drunken men. They are enjoying a raucous drinking party. Every round they have a different drink: beer, vodka, gin, brandy and schnapps so far.

 

“One, two, three!” The group roar and down their drinks.

 

“What’s this?” Craig peers at the remnants of the green liquid.

 

“Some foreign thing,” Rhys slurs. “Horrible, isn’t it?”

 

“Oh, I dunno. It’s a bit like aniseed, I quite like it.”

 

“You’re mad, you are.”

 

Craig grins brightly.

 

“I might take some home with me.”

 

“Oh, hurry up and find a nice boy to shag regularly. You’re flaming aggravating when you aren’t getting any.”

 

Craig’s smile fades.

 

“Bugger off.”

 

***

 

Craig crashes onto his bed still holding half a bottle of absinthe. He swallows the rest of the contents and throws it aside.

 

He covers his eyes with his arm, and tries not to think about the room spinning. After a while he rolls onto his front.

 

The man sitting next to him all night was wearing CKOne. CKOne was the scent that Luke wore. Craig spent one blissful night enveloped in Luke’s smell.

 

Luke Ashton.

 

_I’m so sick of missing you. I’m so sick of thinking at least once a day, ‘I wonder what Luke’s doing’? I’m so sick of waking up and remembering._

_I shouldn’t have drunk so much._

 

Warmth is slipping up Craig’s legs. It coats him completely.

 

But underneath is cool. He can feel a smooth, hard body underneath him.

 

***

 

Luke opens his eyes and looks straight into Craig’s glazed eyes.

 

Craig stares at him for a long moment and then kisses Luke gently. Luke runs his hands through Craig’s hair as they kiss.

 

They move slowly and carefully, mindful of the spinning room beneath them, and the fog around them.

Luke lifts his arms to let Craig peel off his t-shirt. Craig flings it off into the fog, and bites Luke’s stomach tenderly. Luke groans, and pulls at Craig’s rugby shirt. Craig pauses long enough to pull it over his head and hurls it away.

 

Luke arches his back as Craig torments Luke’s nipple with his teeth. Craig moves down Luke’s body, licking, kissing, and biting. Luke weeps and gently scratches Craig’s back.

 

Craig undoes Luke’s jeans and tugs them down. Luke is writhing underneath him. Craig throws Luke’s jeans aside, and then throws his own after them.

 

Luke grabs at him frantically, hauls him up so they are face to face.

 

They stare at each other silently.

 

***

 

The alarm is bleeping.

 

Craig blearily opens his eyes and then shuts the alarm off.

 

For a split second he expects Luke to be in bed next to him.

 

A dream,  _shit_! Craig bounces his head off the mattress, and then cries bitterly.

 

***

 

Luke opens his eyes and smiles blissfully. Now  _that_  was a dream worth having. Luke stretches happily and sits up in bed.

 

And he stares.

 

There is a Welsh rugby shirt strewn across his suitcase.

 

***

 

Craig climbs out of bed wearily and wonders why he is naked. He  _never_  sleeps in the nude when he’s alone; he’s a t-shirt and shorts man.

 

Craig turns in a circle. If he passed out drunk then he would be dressed, but if he undressed and went to sleep, then his clothes should be on the dresser. 

 

The dresser top is ominously empty.

 

***

 

Luke sits on the bed holding the rugby shirt. He buries his face in it.

 

It  _smells_  like Craig.

 

The door is bolted on the inside and the windows are locked on the inside. There is no way that someone could have been in the room and left.

 

“Luke! Are you awake?” Dominic yells, banging on the door.

 

“Yeah,” Luke calls back.

 

“Open the door, mate.”

 

Luke carefully lays the rugby shirt on the bed, and finds his jeans in a tangle on the floor.

 

In a tangle with another, larger pair of jeans.

 

Luke looks at the mystery jeans thoughtfully and puts them beside the shirt. He pulls on his jeans and walks over to the door.

 

“Hurry up, Luke!”

 

Luke unlocks and unbolts the door. He rubs his eyes and stares blearily at Dominic.

 

“What?”

 

“Hurry up, mate. The plane leaves in an hour.” Dominic tries to look past Luke into the room. He lowers his voice, “Has he gone? Where did you get him from?”

 

“Who?” Luke asks blankly.

 

“Come off it, Luke.” Dominic sniggers. “Everyone on this floor could hear the two of you.”

 

Luke smiles weakly.

 

“Yeah, he’s gone.”

 

“Well, get a move on. We have to be out of here in twenty minutes.”

 

“Okay, no problem,” Luke says agreeably. He waits until Dominic has left, and shuts the door.

 

He is perfectly calm and totally composed as he showers quickly and dresses. He is unruffled as he finishes his packing. He pulls the rugby shirt over his head, picks up a pair of boxers that he would never dream of wearing, a pair of large trainers he has never seen before, and tucks them all into his luggage. When he folds the jeans something falls out.

 

A warrant card in the name of ‘Craig Gilmore’.

 

Luke chokes back tears, packs the jeans away, grabs his belongings, and leaves as fast as he can.

 

***

 

Craig pads downstairs in his gown and puts the kettle on. He makes a cup of tea, and slumps down onto the couch.

 

‘ _I’m going mad_ ,’ he says to himself. ‘ _How could I lose a full set of clothes_?’

 

_And Luke_.  _I don’t want to dream about Luke. I’m so sick of this. It was once! A one-night stand! I was infatuated, I didn’t really love him._

_It hurts so much. I love him, and it hurts all the time._

 

***

 

Luke sits on the plane waiting for take-off. He is trying to keep the calm detachment that he managed in the hotel room. The flight is short, but Luke is getting more and more anxious. He bolts down the in-flight meal and the complementary snacks, but nothing seems to settle him.

 

***

 

Craig takes a shower. He feels as if there is a weight in his heart. During his life he has had some unhappy days, and some very sad days, but they always passed. He is beginning to wonder if he will always feel this way, always wake half expecting Luke to be there, always aware of the yawning gap.

 

He could have lived without the tormenting, cruel dream of spending a night with Luke.

 

He has been alone for a long time now. He gave himself a few months to recover, to get over Luke, and then he started dating again. He had one night stands, he went on ‘proper’ dates, and he got fixed up on blind dates.

 

The dates left him listless and bored, flirtation made him feel guilty, and the sex made him feel cheap and dirty. 

 

Not like last night. That had felt perfect.

 

***

 

“Well, where  _is_  my luggage?” Luke wails.

 

“The carousel is going around again,” the customer service clerk says soothingly.

 

“You haven’t lost it, have you? My boy… my Sar… my frie… someone else’s stuff is in there!”

 

“Here is the luggage again. Why don’t you have another look?”

 

Luke scowls at her, and then matches off.

 

***

 

Craig wraps a towel around his waist while he brushes his teeth. He gargles with mouthwash, spits it out, and then washes his face.

 

He has nothing especially to get up for, but Craig is a creature of habit. Habit is the only thing that keeps him going from day to day. He goes to the bedroom, gets dressed, and then he methodically searches the house for his missing clothing.

 

***

 

Luke throws his luggage in the back of his car, and jumps into the driving seat. He starts the ignition, and roars off into the traffic.

 

***

 

Craig blows out his cheeks as he dials Rhys’ telephone number.

 

_Hey, Rhys; did I take off my clothes and walk home naked?_

 

Maybe not.

 

“Hello?” Rhys croaks.

 

“Rhys, it’s Craig.”

 

“What do you want?” Rhys groans.

 

“Did I do anything embarrassing last night?”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Just… anything out of the ordinary,” Craig says weakly.

 

“Er… you weren’t very drunk. I think you went home early. I know you took some of that horrible green stuff with you.”

 

“So I didn’t do anything… memorable?”

 

“No,” Rhys says curiously. “Have you woken up with a bird or what?”

 

“Thank you for that image,” Craig says sourly.

 

“Well, what is it?”

 

Craig takes a deep breath.

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

“You woke me up to ask me what you did last night, and you won’t even tell me why?”

 

“That’s about the size of it,” Craig answers. “You better get back to bed, you sound rough.”

 

“Git,” Rhys mutters and hangs up.

 

***

 

Luke parks outside 17 Formosa Gardens. There are young children playing outside, and a paddling pool is visible in the back garden. Luke sighs and opens the door slowly.

 

Luke walks up to the front door and knocks politely.

 

The young black boy walks over and peers up at Luke.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hello.” Luke smiles. “Are you allowed to talk to strangers?”

 

“Whoops!”

 

The front door opens and an elegant black woman smiles at Luke.

 

“Can I help you?”

 

“Oh, hi, I’m sorry to bother you. Um, I’m looking for an old friend of mine. He did live here, but he’s obviously moved. His name is Craig Gilmore. I don’t suppose he left you a forwarding address?”

 

“I’m sorry, Mr Gilmore didn’t give us an address, he had all his mail re-directed instead. Because he’s a police officer, I think he said.”

 

“Right,” Luke says deflating. “Well, thanks very much.”

 

“I’m very sorry,” she says gently, looking at Luke’s expression.

 

“Thanks very much,” Luke says again and trudges back to his car.

 

He starts to drive home, but his eyes are stinging. Luke pulls over to the side of the road and goes through his pockets for a clean tissue.

 

***

 

Craig gingerly ventures into the garden, and pokes about in the bushes looking for discarded clothing. He shivers in the chill breeze. Last night it was below freezing, Craig can’t imagine what would have possessed him to take his clothes off in the freezing weather, let alone take off his trainers.

 

He has been trying to ignore the thought niggling in the back of his mind; if he lost his clothes before he got home, then how did he unlock the front door?

 

***

 

Luke pulls a tissue from his back pocket. A small folded piece of paper comes with it and falls on his knee. Luke has a little cry, and then wipes his eyes dry.

 

_Why does everything have to be so difficult?_

 

Luke puts the tissue away and notices the paper on his knee.

 

_Oh, the paper from Gruzia._  Oh!

 

Luke opens it quickly, turns it the right way up, and scans it with his heart thumping in his chest.

 

‘Craig Gilmore:

 

42 Ford Avenue,

Islington’

 

***

 

Craig goes back to his bedroom and sits on the bed. He can remember leaving the pub, he is fairly sure he can remember walking home, and lying down on the bed.

 

Craig rubs his face, and then notices something under the pillow. There are several foreign currency notes that he has never seen before, and a folded piece of paper. Craig unfolds the paper and stares at it in bewilderment.

 

‘I wish to meet Craig Gilmore again without any of the confusion, distress or upset that always seemed to dog our relationship. I wish for there to be no problems or complications of any kind. I wish to make him happy and to be happy.’

 

***

 

Luke almost falls out the car in his rush. He opens the boot, opens his suitcase, and pulls out Craig’s jeans. He tucks them under his arm, takes a deep breath, and walks up the neatly kept path.

 

***

 

After a couple of seconds Craig registers the doorbell. He checks that he is presentable, and then goes to the front door.

 

***

 

The door opens and Luke realises that he is holding his breath.

 

Craig blinks at him.

 

“I… your jeans… and rugby shirt…” Luke stutters.

 

Craig grabs Luke around the waist, pulls him in close, and kisses him passionately. Luke drops the jeans as he is pulled over the threshold.

 

Craig pulls away and blushes.

 

“Sorry, I’m sorry… I’m really sorry.”

 

“Shut up,” Luke advises, and kisses Craig fervently.

 

***

 

The phone is ringing for almost two minutes before Craig rolls over and answers it.

 

“Hello?”

 

“It’s Rhys.”

 

“Hi, Rhys; what’s up?” Craig smiles as Luke wriggles over and kisses the back of his neck.

 

“Do I get an explanation about that carry-on this morning?” Rhys prompts.

 

Luke slips his hand between Craig’s thighs and strokes the soft skin with his fingertips. Craig turns and smiles lasciviously at him.

 

“Sorry, Rhys,” he says, as he turns to face Luke. “But if I told you, then you just wouldn’t believe me.”

 

Luke takes the phone from him and puts it back on the hook.

 

Craig slides his hands around Luke’s waist as Luke pulls the covers up.

 

 

                                                                        The End


End file.
